The Seven Deadly Sins of Gale Hawthorne
by Pinklove21
Summary: Gale went through a lot in the HG trilogy, but do you know just how much? He feels every mortal sin out there, and for a good reason. Don't own THG.
1. Wrath

_**Wrath **_

Anger. That's all I could feel for my best friend when she came home from the Hunger Games alive. I should have been over the moon. Grateful. Proud. The happiest man alive. But she came home with _him_. Star-crossed lovers.

The pain had passed a while ago, something in my heart breaking. And while I was sure it was still there, the most potent feeling at the moment, the one where she's on that stage waving to the cheering crowds of District 12 is anger. I hate everything at the moment. I hate Peeta for beating me to the punch (and confessing his love in the first place) let alone acting on it. I hate her for going with it even if it was only to save herself and possibly him, because who is this girl? Certainly not my Catnip, the one so against love and anything that comes with it. Never even gave it thought. She could have won without him or the star-crossed lovers, of that I'm certain. But she went with it.

And most of all, I hate myself. For not telling her beforehand how I feel. For being cut off when I told her goodbye. For not just kissing her one of those times that I had the urge to. For not volunteering, because maybe that would have been me up there with her, the star-crossed lovers. At least that would have seemed more realistic than this. For going along with the fucking cousin thing just so this stupid story could be pulled off. For loving her in the first place and causing myself all this pain. Why did I even bother, really?

So as I watch Katniss come down and hug her sister first, I stare at Peeta with his family and think of all the ways I could gladly get my anger out. Kill him right here with my bare hands. Punch him right in the face for stealing _my_ girl even if she was never in that way, or at least not yet. All sorts of sickening daydreams that make me feel better for just thinking them, because even through this…wrath of mine, I know I can't do it for real. The daydreams are all I have and all I can ever have, because if I did any of them I would most likely be killed myself. And my family still needs me, I have to work in the mines to make money and hunt for them when I can for extra money. Because like hell am I going to take Katniss's star-crossed lover blood money, not a single coin. I don't want it. I want nothing at all to do with it.

And yet when she comes to give me a hug, I let her, hiding my anger for at least now. There are cameras, you know. But the anger is still boiling inside of me, just begging to come out.

And one of these days, I just might let it.


	2. Greed

_**Greed**_

As someone who has been poor their whole life, born into this life in the worst District in the worst part, it may seem natural to want more. In fact, it probably is. I want a good home for my family, for my father to not be dead. To never have to worry about anything at all. To not be working a job I loathe that did in fact kill my own father. But mostly, what I'm greedy for is love. Love from the girl that apparently just can't give it to me.

And yet as I'm still angry at her and everything (did she really have to go get engaged to the guy?), as I followed her path to a place I've never been before all I can think is that this has to be for some reason, doesn't it? She can explain it away and it will probably not be the answer I like, but I would go because I want to see her. No, I need to see her, somehow get a chance to touch her again. I want her.

And then…she tells me she wants to run away. With me. Just like I've been wanting for a long time, a dream of mine that I even once shared with her on that fateful day that changed her life and mine. A subtle attempt at getting her to realize that I loved her, that fantasy. But for her to suggest it and be serious about it in this situation…she's completely mad. Crazy. And yet I'll go with it gladly because it's my fantasy come true (sort of). I get my Catnip to myself and Peeta Mellark or anyone else won't be there to stop me.

And yet as I spin her around, the urge for more creeps up on me. The greed to start this now, to do what I've wanted overtakes me and somewhere in the middle of thinking it the words come out.

And she says _I know_.

Really, is that all she can come up with? My fucking god, even being fake engaged to that sucker is better than that. She can't even say something better?

And maybe in a way as I take off once again angry at her…I knew that she would say that. But just wanted her so bad and when it seemed like she finally wanted me I took the chance and it failed. But she still wants to run which means maybe she could love me. It's enough to think about anyway.

But for now I have a family to feed on the only thing I got worthy of anything on that stupid trip into the woods, a lone turkey. And so I come to the home of the Head Peacekeeper who greedily takes whatever he wants no matter the law (or disgusting nature) and I think…maybe it's way of dealing with something like I'm feeling now.

Surely his greed for what he wants is better sated than mine.


	3. Sloth

_**Sloth**_

I'd never in my entire almost nineteen years been in this much pain, of that I'm certain. My vision is a little fuzzy for the whipping that I endured for my being unable to hide my hunting or my distaste for the surprising new Head peacekeeper that was at Cray's house who was certainly not Cray, but I certainly remember one thing from after with stunning clarity even through the haze of some drugs.

Her lips on mine. Willingly.

And with that, somehow in my mind it makes the whipping half worth it. I could stay here the rest of my life if it gave me more of that. In fact, I could be so lazy as to just lay on this table forever, letting people feed me and give me water and medicine. Taking care of me. I'd never really had the chance to be lazy before, but now I can certainly see the appeal.

And so a little less guiltily than I should feel, I let it continue. I lay on that table and willingly let them take care of me though the pain has diminished from whatever they give me and can't find it in myself to care. I will Katniss to take my hand again, to kiss me again. She does the former occasionally but never the latter again but that's alright; I know she did and I have that memory forever.

And even when I can sit up on my own again maybe a week after I got whipped, I still feel no need to go back to the mines. No need to go home where hungry faces meet me and there's not much I can do about it. No need to leave this warm Victor's Village which I used to hate but now I sort of like. Because despite how stupid it sounds and though I still passionately hate the Capitol, I kind of like it here now.

It's warm in a way without a fire, there's enough food for everyone and more. I never have to worry about anything other than my back which is pretty easy to ignore as Katniss is there to keep me company. And this table I sit on is the one where I got a kiss from the girl I love even though she probably didn't think I'd remember it through the haze of the drugs. But that doesn't matter, and I'm not inclined to tell her that. I'll let her bring it up if she wants.

I'll let everyone else do something for once. It's not like me, but we all get a bit lazy sometimes, don't we?


	4. Envy

_**Envy**_

I've officially gone insane. I'm jealous of someone being a tribute in the Hunger Games. I wish I was there in their place. Even saying the thoughts to myself makes me cringe with disgust and yet it's true.

I should have volunteered for Peeta Mellark in the last Hunger Games.

Because if I did, I wouldn't be sitting here now watching the girl I love kissing him on that damn beach in that damn arena like she'd die without his kisses. I want that, it's what was in my path had she not been a tribute in the first place.

I'm jealous of Mellark. I hate that he can get away with saying they're married and she's fucking pregnant even though I know it's not true. The point is he can get away with it and the whole of Panem believes it. That I'm just her fucking cousin, that _he's_ the one who has every right to do that.

And oh god, the envy for that arena. When he momentarily died I had a glimpse of hope no matter how god awful that sounds (I feel like a horrible person for thinking it but there it was), but she panicked for him. Finnick Odair brought him back to life. Why couldn't I be the one she panicked over if I was dying? And then every kiss tore into me just a little more even though I knew it had to happen for the camera. Every one made me see green and though I try to hide it, it's become seemingly more difficult as it goes on.

And then this. This kiss isn't like any other, because it's different. So it doesn't matter how much she panicked when she heard my voice with those Jabberjays, making me cringe that they could ever make my voice sound like that. It doesn't matter apparently all we had before, all those years of friendship and a strong bond and trusting each other with our secrets, our families, even our lives. It doesn't matter that she ever kissed me on that stupid table after I was whipped in the end.

Because despite everything, I know that girl better than everyone. I already suspected she would die for him this time but this…I can't even watch anymore. The envy to be on that screen instead of here in my shabby shack of a Seam home is so great that I know I can't stay here. Not where my mother or siblings will realize that's exactly what I want.

And so I storm out into the backyard knowing I can't go into the woods and I can't really leave because it's mandatory viewing, going to the side of the house before punching the wall roughly and making my rough knuckles bleed and bruise from the impact of the wall, splinters making their way under my skin. Nothing matters anymore because my world has just been turned upside down and all I can think is two things.

One; I am jealous of Peeta Mellark being in that arena.

Two; This is the moment I _know_ that Katniss Everdeen isn't mine anymore and never will be.

After kicking and punching things out of jealous rage a few more times before getting some firewood as my excuse for being out here, I go back into the house with a mask of coolness on my face and sit back down.

But somehow…I don't think I fool anyone. Not even myself.


	5. Pride

_**Pride**_

"Good idea, Gale." Beetee praises me with a quiet smile before turning back to the computer screen to put my idea into blueprint, typing away at some program so that he can start a new design.

"Thanks." I nod, but on the inside I'm bursting with pride. I always ranted and raved about the Capitol and wishing to go against it, but one thing about coming here to District 13 that I didn't anticipate is actually doing something myself. After all, why would anyone listen to a nineteen year old miner from District 12? Oh that's right, because I'm the Mockingjay's 'cousin.'

I honestly think most people at least here by now know that's a lie because we both hate it, but I can't deny it's probably the reason that anyone listened to me in the first place. Training is alright to be a soldier and it's almost refreshing because it's the only time other than those two hours maybe two or three times a week that I get to be outside and not underground, but this…this is really doing something for the war.

It wasn't originally my idea to turn my snares into weapons, but once I thought about the concept it made perfect sense. After all, a trap for an animal can easily be transformed into something bigger and slightly different for people. Knowing that my ideas can help end this war, knowing that _I_ did this…it's perfect. It's what I always wanted, to take down the Capitol. It's just the cherry on top that it may be by my own designs and the irony of it all is that it began from poaching off them in the first place.

I know Katniss doesn't like my ideas, says that they aren't moral. But even that hasn't daunted how proud I am of myself or the designs that I came up with. Doesn't she know all's fair in love and war? She can focus on the love (clearly, she's already basically given up on me) and I can focus on the war. Because really, what else do I have left?

No, all is fair in war. And if Snow can have mutts and Hunger Games and hijack people then I don't see why I can't give it right back to him as a sort of slap in the face. I'm proud of my designs, my position here in District 13. Proud that I can end all this pain for my family and everyone else. My snares have always kept my family safe before, I don't see how this is much different. A different concept, a different target, but ultimately the same goal. Kill what needs to be killed.

And so what if snares and turning them into traps give me pride? I can't see the harm in it.


	6. Gluttony

_**Gluttony**_

They say that you learn something new every day. And thinking on it after this awful day in what was left in District 12, having other people invade _our_ woods and _our_ spot even though I was still angry at Katniss…But it got me thinking about Katniss and how I know she's kind of not mine anymore but I'd do anything for one more kiss.

I've come to the conclusion she only loves me (in whatever way that is) when I'm in pain. After all, she didn't kiss me until I was within an inch of death's door. She doesn't pay attention unless I'm hurt or showing her any pain I have. And yet…I'll do it again just for her attention. Which brings me to what I've learned about myself today.

I'm a glutton for punishment.

It's really just a theory with her, but one I'm willing to test (not to mention the benefits that may come from it). It only strengthens that idea when Cressida asks if either of us have ever been tortured when we pass what is left of the gallows and I silently take off my shirt, the dark red scars lacing my back predominantly reminding her of that day, and she leaves with some ridiculous excuse to her house in Victor's Village. My theory grows as I smirk inside and put my shirt back on, waiting with the rest of the people for her to come back. When she doesn't in about ten minutes I offer to go find her.

My theory will involve showing painful emotions and bringing back difficult memories, but I'm going to do it regardless. I'm _craving_ her kiss, missing it. I want more than that actually, an excess of kisses and more would be great.

Walking in silently, I find her on the ground actually gathering things in a box for her mother in the kitchen on the floor. She doesn't sense me come in and my eyes fall on the wood-grained table, the very one where I laid near death. The very one she kissed me on.

Stretching my hands across the wood grain, I idly wonder if my own blood has seeped into the cracks of it, if it's waiting there, keeping its memory ingrained in it. She finally realizes I'm here and sets the box on the table but I don't bother looking up, knowing she's waiting for me to speak.

"Remember? This is where you kissed me." I finally break my vow to let her bring it up, but since I can't seem to help myself I do it anyway. I glance up through my eyelashes and find surprise on her face.

"I didn't think you'd remember that." She informs me, and I almost smirk at it bitterly. What, did she not want me to remember? I'm certainly glad I do.

"Have to be dead to forget." I tell her, thinking that I was already pretty damn close to that at the time. "Maybe not even then. Maybe I'll be like that man in the hanging tree…still waiting for an answer."

And without my permission though I did this to myself willingly, my eyes start watering at the surge of pain it brings back. At the pain at saying the very words because I know they're true and that hurts the worst.

Then her lips press to mine in a gentle kiss and I realize bitterly that my theories are both correct. I really am a glutton for punishment, because somehow this makes it worth it.

I pull away with a wry grin and decide to let her in on my theory. "I knew you'd kiss me."

"How?" she asks, surprised. As if she didn't know herself.

"Because I'm in pain; That's the only way I get your attention." I reply truthfully. "Don't worry, it will pass." I let her know as I take the box and leave.

And it is true, this pain will ebb away eventually. But I have every intention of willingly bringing it back for more attention from Katniss, and I don't actually care that it will probably hurt me in the end. Because I somehow love the punishment.


	7. Lust

_**Lust**_

I had already pretty much figured out I had no chance with her. Especially not if Peeta didn't get better because being Katniss, she could never let him go. She blamed herself for him after all. And as I sat next to her when I came here to District 2 I told her as much and she confirmed it. But she also claimed something else, that she always felt wrong kissing him because of me.

Did she now? Well maybe she doesn't quite love me, but there's got to be something there. And then I think on it and I realize what it is because I can feel it too.

Lust.

And so I decide to give into it when we go back out, taking her in my arms and letting all my dirty desires take over my mind as I gently kiss up her neck, brushing my lips and tongue against the bruises left there and pretending that I'm going further south, sucking on her breasts and licking her belly button all the way to the prize, claiming it as my own. But instead I opt for the other way that she'd actually allow me to do (and she does), her warm lips that greet mine willingly this time.

As our tongues dance a tango and my hands caress her back, stomach, everywhere I possibly can, I can feel it. So what if she doesn't love me at the moment? I can have this and the darkness I'm sure that my eyes would show if they were open (and hers too) is alright. Actually better, because she can say she loves Peeta if she wants, but he doesn't have _this_.

And so I take it further, deepening the kisses as a fire courses through me, deciding when she quite clearly likes this that I might as well take this as far as I can. Maybe I can take it south after all. I mean, you really don't have to love someone to have sex. I've done it plenty in my years and I know she's never once. I could sate my lust for her by having that one part since she'll pick Peeta in the end anyway. The one part that she could never give him.

So I let my hands go up her smooth taut stomach, pausing at her rib cage just in case she tries to stop me. But she doesn't, and that makes me smile a little through the liplock that she's going to let me. And so I let my fingers find her bra, slipping easily under them and massaging her breasts, pinching her nipples a little. She moans slightly but it seems like she does it without thinking, doesn't even acknowledge me. What, does she even know what's going on?

Slightly disappointed I take my hands out of her shirt and stop the kiss, telling her it doesn't count because it was like kissing a drunk person. She didn't want love or even lust I guess, she was just lonely. Or maybe that was lust though she wouldn't acknowledge it. But still, my lust has been sated so I guess that's good enough for now. Even if it doesn't actually count I can still say I got to be the first at something. I'm content with it.

Oh who am I kidding, I want more. The lustful monster in me wants all.


End file.
